Forever
by Cyprith
Summary: It was supposed to be forever, but look where that got them. Now she’s dead and Butch doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do without her. Butch/OC


Title: Forever

Author: Kytten

Rating: PG13 (for language)

Pairing: Butch/Vaultie

Disclaimer: Don't own Fallout

Summary: It was supposed to be forever, but look where that got them. Now she's dead and Butch doesn't know what the hell he's supposed to do.

Author's Note: Butch is a complete idiot and often a jackass, but you know you love him. Semi-inspired by the incident in Vault 87. When the screen goes white like that and your companions disappear, I couldn't help but wondering what happened to Butch. Part of me says he'd run like hell in the other direction, but I like to think that he's sweet on the vault-dweller… so, yeah… angsty one-shot ahoy!

*

Tunnel snakes forever. What a stroke of fucking genius.

For awhile it was great. His best girl at his side, a gun in his hand and a flask on his hip… and now he's back in the same crumbling bar he started out in, shit-faced and turning more into his mother every day with a beat up black jacket on his lap. The people here know better than to talk to him now. They've heard the radio—heard that fucking idiot talking about _everybody's favorite martyr—_and it doesn't take a genius to figure out just what the glowing green box on his arm means.

*

"_Com'on, Butch. Haul ass. I don't want to get caught carrying this damn thing."_

_"Keep your panties on. I'm coming."_

"_You're not coming—you're too busy staring at Fawkes."_

"_The freak's creeping me out!"_

_"He won't hurt you."_

_"Yeah? As I remember, you said that about those frigging Lamplight kids."_

_"And if you remember, I _also _told you not to make faces at them."_

*

The jacket used to be his. It's too small across the shoulders for him now, but it still smells a little like her. And the snake on the back has a smear of something like lipstick across the fangs. Butch traces the design as well as he can manage with shaking hands and double vision. He remembers giving it to her when they were still just kids, sneaking around after curfew. He remembers her laughing at him, the collar of the jacket flipped up and nothing at all underneath it.

He remembers watching those goddamned metal men carrying her off. Remembers screaming her name as they held him back. Remembers fighting for everything he was worth until one of them got a lucky shot and everything went black.

*

_"You taste like an ashtray."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"It's not very sexy, Butch."_

_"What? You'd rather I walk around sucking on carrots and toothpicks?"_

_"It'd be nice."_

_"Heh. Sure, babe. And when the guys ask why I'm turning into some little pansy girl, I'll tell 'em how much better_ _I taste."_

_"All I'm saying is that you don't see Pack-a-day Mack getting any, do you?"_

"_And that doesn't have anything to do with him being the vault's biggest asshole?"_

"…_I think you'd look hot with a toothpick."_

_*_

He'd meant to leave with her the first time. After she'd handed him a pistol and tore off after the radroaches with a baseball bat. And then one of the fucking guards had gone and shot him in the ass and he'd spent the better part of a month facedown in bed listening to his mother rant as she careened off the living room furniture.

And then, when the vault was going to hell in a hand basket and she showed up like some kind of goddamned angel, still wearing his old jacket and looking at him like he was the only thing in the world worth a damn, he _swore_ he wouldn't let her get away from him again.

*

"_Keep it. It looks good on you."_

"_Your mom'll bitch."_

"_And your dad'll throw the fit of the century. Who the hell cares? It's not exactly unusual, is it?"_

"_You and your spur-of-the-moment gifts, Butch. You've still got shit in your pockets."_

"_Pictures of you."_

"_That camera really _works_? I thought you were just being a jackass."_

"_Yeah, that's me._ _Throw my knife over here, would you? This cap ain't coming off."_

"_Oh, look at this one. You look so sweet!"_

"_Baby, I may be many things, but I ain't fucking _sweet_."_

"_Well, you won't mind if I keep it then."_

_*_

There's a picture of them in the inside pocket of her jacket. It's pretty beat up and the colors aren't great, but his arm's around her shoulders, her head's tucked under his chin and they're smiling. He leaves the picture where it is. He doesn't want to look at it. Doesn't want to remember how she felt in his arms—the knowledge that he'll never get to hold her again is enough. Just the sort of thing that calls for another whisky or twelve.

His voice is still hoarse and half broken when he orders, but the bartender takes his caps without question and adds another bottle to the pile growing around him. Hell, it's probably not even whisky at this point, but he doesn't give a damn as long as it knocks him the fuck _out_.

*

_"Don't you ever do something that fucking stupid again, Butch! You could have been killed!"_

_"What the hell do you want me to do? That thing had a fucking fire hydrant aimed at your head!"_

_"Bryant had it covered. He had a fat man for godssake, Butch! What the hell did you think you could do?"_

_"The idiot was just standing there _staring_ at you like you were gonna _talk_ the damn thing down or something. I had a shot and I took it!"_

_"With a missile launcher that _doesn't work_!"_

_"Looks like it worked just fucking fine to me. And, by the way, you're welcome."_

_"You want me to _thank_ you for running out there and almost getting your head smashed in? Goddamnit, Butch! Are you out of your mind?"_

_"You know what? Fuck this. I'm going out for a smoke."_

*

Butch doesn't remember the day his father died, but he remembers the weeks that came after it. Everybody walking around in their best clothes telling him everything was going to be just fine and talking about what his dad would have wanted. He would have wanted them to laugh and get drunk and talk about good times. He would have wanted Uncle Ronnie to pay his damn debt. He would have wanted his nephew to have his comic collection and his son to have his old sniper rifle.

Butch didn't have an idea in hell what his girl would have wanted. She'd always been a goodie two-shoes though, Tunnel Snake or not. Maybe she'd have wanted him to turn into some kind of a saint. Maybe she'd have wanted him to stop smoking for good this time, stop getting shit-faced when she wasn't around to distract him, stop laughing at Raiders with their legs shot off and bad jokes about nuns in a bar.

Or maybe she wouldn't have given a damn. Maybe she was too worried about fresh water for fishies and the fate of the world and getting rid of injustice and all that. Maybe he'd only ever been an in-the-meantime thing. Somebody good for a laugh to share the watches with.

*

"_Sometimes I wonder about getting old, you know?"_

_"Aw, you'll never get old, babe. You'll stay just like this forever."_

_"And you'll turn into a crazy old man with the world famous Deloria beer-gut, telling bad Raider jokes in a bar somewhere. Come to bed, would you? This is Megaton—you don't have to stay up looking through cracks in the wall."_

_"I was just making sure that damned robot stays downstairs. I don't trust that thing. And move your ass, would you? You're stealing all the sheets."_

_"I just wonder what happens when we get too old for this. I mean, look at Jericho. What happens when we're too old to go carting electrified tin cans full of shit across the wasteland?"_

_"Maybe we won't have to. We could, I dunno, retire or something."_

_"Mmm… that'd be nice."_

_*_

"Butch?"

He looks up at the sound of his name and waits for his vision to clear. It takes awhile to piece together the speaker's features until he can figure out who the hell is prodding him.

"Amata?" the name takes awhile to find—he's never been really good with names—and it's been ages since he's seen her.

Though actually, he realizes belatedly, it's only been a year.

"Wow, never thought I'd see you on the outside. Figured you'd get eaten by a mole-rat or something," she says and swings up on the bar seat next to him. She opens her mouth to speak, sees the jacket in his lap and pauses instead, her eyes going soft. "Is that…?"

"Yeah," he slurs, feeling the burn in his throat from screaming and alcohol. "So fuck off. 'M not in the mood."

*

"_You okay? You look like shit."_

_"I got in a fight with my Dad. Could I… stay with you?"_

_"Yeah, I guess… I mean, if you need to. What? Amata's place all full up?"_

_"She just doesn't _get_ it, you know? She can't imagine saying no to her father."_

_"Yeah, well, I guess I lucked out there... You wanna stay in my room? I'd offer the couch, but if Mom wakes up…"_

_"That'd be really great… Hey, Butch?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Thanks. I don't know what I'd do without you."_

_*_

"You know," Amata says at last, "I never knew you guys were… _together _until she came back."

Butch closes his eyes, holding his head in the hand not clutching the neck of the bottle.

"I thought I knew everything about her. She was my _best friend_."

"Y'got a funny way of showing it," he manages through clenched teeth. "You got t'play Overlord jus' like you wanted and you were just fucking _tickled_ to see us go."

"That's not true and you know it! I'm just as upset as you are."

"Jus' as upset?" he snorts. "You never knew her. You _never fucking knew her_. She had a problem, she came to _me_. She told me shit she wouldn't have told _nobody _else."

Amata is quiet for awhile, eyeing him with the grim disapproval her father had been so good at.

"How many have you had exactly?"

Butch glares at her through the pounding in his head, feeling the world spin around him with dizzying speed.

"I dunno. What doesn't kill you, right?" He looks down at the jacket in his lap— sees his best girl grinning back at him with that mischievous gleam in her eyes—and stands up, setting the bottle down on the third try. "Catch you later. I got… business t'take care of."

*

"_I mean it, you know."_

"_I didn't say you didn't, Butch. I'm just saying that shit happens and you can't go promising—"_

"_I don't care. You and me _belong_ together."_

"_Tunnel Snakes forever?"_

"_Yeah. Forever." _

_*_


End file.
